Deduce Me
by LoverofDogs94
Summary: Writing Prompt for "What could Sherlock deduce about you, if you were to meet?"


From the prompt "What would Sherlock deduce about you?"

I don't own BBC Sherlock, sadly.

She sits with one leg tucked underneath, leaning against the window of the train. Her headphones are in, her nose buried in a book, and a long forgotten cup of cold tea in her hand. She's young, not over 22, I suppose, American and by herself. John and I join her in the otherwise empty compartment, as it was the last open one. It's going to be a long train ride, so I settle into my mind palace, after deducing all I can about our quiet, unassuming traveling companion. After awhile, minutes or hours, I know not, I am brought back into the present by John tapping my shoulder repeatedly.

Sitting up, I snapped at him.

"What?"

He rolled his eyes, and replied.

"I am going to see if there is any food to be had on this train. Do you want something?"

"Not now, John," I huffed impatiently, "I'm on a case!"

"Can I get you anything?"

I heard my friend ask the quiet traveler.

She replied with a soft "No, thank you," and my army doctor was gone. I went to lay back and return to my mind palace when the soft voice spoke again.

"Are you a detective?"

"What?"

"Are you a detective? You said you were on a case."

Opening my eyes, I sighed.

"Yes."

"Are you good?"

Sitting up, I see her big, green eyes sparkling with interest. So I smirk.

"Very good."

She sets her book down.

"Fascinating. I've never met a detective before, I have only read about them."

"They're all idiots."

"Excuse me?"

"All those detectives in books are idiots. Amateurs. Basic."

"And you're not?"

"No."

John chose to re-enter our car of the train then.

"What's going on?"

"I was simply explaining how dull fictional detectives were."

"Sherlock..."

"What?"

The girl spoke up again.

"It's fine. He's interesting."

John rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don't encourage him."

They carried on their conversation as though I wasn't in the room, which was quite annoying.

"So, is he?"

"Is he what?"

"As good as he says."

John let out a sigh, and half chuckled.

"Yes. He can deduce practically your whole life story, the good and bad, just by looking at you."

The young traveler leaned forward.

"Do it."

I was slightly taken aback.

"Do it?"

"Deduce me."

I smiled and steepled my hands under my chin.

"Alright."

"No Sherlock. No, this is not a good idea. You don't want him to, you really don't."

"Yes, I do."

Giving up, John leaned back to see what I could say about her.

"American. I'd say from somewhere in the Midwest. Been in England for 3 days, Solo traveler. Do you want me to go on?"

"Yes. What else?"

John shook his head, trying to dissuade me, and as usual, I ignored him, and went into my rapid fire deductions.

"You come from a fairly large family, in which you are the middle child. You like to fade into the background. Your profession is a hairstylist. You have an old knee injury that is bothering you. Previously, you were a dancer, but judging by your short stature, you probably didn't excel. You wear a ring, but you don't have a significant other. Religion probably Christian. Your mother is worried about you. Judging by the faint scars on your arm and below your knuckles, you have a past of self harm and bulimia,"

"Sherlock-" I heard John say with a warning, but I was on a roll.

"You no longer care what people think of you, you do whatever you want. Currently, you are running. From what or who? Probably a gentleman back home. Now. Am. I. Wrong?"

The blonde sat with her mouth slightly open.

"That was- that was- I don't know what that was."

I leaned back, quirked an eyebrow, and crossed one leg over the other.

"So. Am I wrong?"

She shook her head.

"No, you almost nailed me."

"Almost?"

With a small smile, she met his eyes.

"I was a dancer. You had that right. But I was good. I competed with Team USA at the World Championships right before retiring."

A brief wave of surprise hit me, along with with something else. Was I impressed?Maybe.

"Ah. Well, there's always something. The rest was correct?"

She nodded.

"Yes. It was. That was- incredible? I think that is good word for it."

I smirked, and exchanged a look with John.

"Not everyone thinks so."

She pulled her knees up to her chest.

"So. Do explain how you do it? Or do you not reveal your secrets?"

"I simply observe."

She stared at me.

"And how did you observe all that?"

I sighed. Funny little brain.

"American. Easily enough. Midwest? Your accent. The tags on your luggage say you arrived 3 days ago. Obviously a solo traveler, there is no one with you. Your bookmark is photo, I presume of your family, since the similarities are striking. Middle child? Personality says it all."

Nodding, our young companion silently agreed, encouraging me to continue.

"Fading into the background. You sat in an empty compartment, as close to the wall as you could. You were tucked into yourself, taking up as little space as possible. Your clothes are stylish, yet simple as to not draw attention to you. You like to be invisible. Figuring out your profession was simple enough, your nails are stained, could be from anything, but we can deduce it's hair color, from the little hairs from doing haircuts in your scarf; that's says hairstylist. While you were reading, you would absently rub your knee and stretch it from time to time. Therfore, old injury flare up. Dancer was easy. You had your shoe kicked off, revealing your short toenails and calloused foot that you can't help pointing. Habit built over years of dancing. Shall I continue?"

"Please."

"The ring on your left ring finger is well worn, so you have had it for well over 5 years. That would place you in your early teens. If you had been in a relationship that long, from that young of an age, you would have a different ring by now. So, you bought it yourself. Why do you wear it on that particular finger? Judging by the small cross, and inscription, we can deduce it is a "purity" ring popular among young Christian females. Of course your mother is worried about you, you are traveling in a foreign country by yourself-"

John interrupted at this point.

"Are you sure you want him to go on? Because it is really none of our business, right Sherlock?"

I heard the warning in his voice again.

"Thank you, John- right? but I'm fine. It's in the past. Go on, Sherlock."

"Perfect lines, white scars on your inner forearm, can only come from one thing. So self harm. Scars on your knuckles can come from many things, but with the self harm, one can assume from your teeth in the midst of an eating disorder. It's past, because the scars are healed, and you look healthy. It's easy to tell you don't care what people think, because earlier, and just now, when I mentioned the scars you showed no reaction to it. You let me continue. You do whatever you want, because you are currently here, by yourself, not in America. And running, we can deduce it's from a gentleman. That explains WHY your here. Why else would a young female just pack a bag and leave her home, by herself? So, relationship troubles. Does that cover it?"

"Yes. That is amazing. That you can just observe all that. That is incredible."

I don't really know how to respond. John is still the only one who says that, and means it.

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome. That is extraordinary."

John smiles at me. A see-other-people-think-you're-special-too smile. I smirk slightly at him before announcing,"I need to think." As I start to lay back into my thinking position, I heard the girl and John conversing about books and tea.

As the train pulled up to our destination, John helped the American gather her belongings. Before we exit the train, the blonde turned to us.

"My name is Jordan, by the way. I doubt we will ever meet again, but it was pleasure to meet you, John and Sherlock."

"The pleasure is ours, right Sherlock?"

I heard my friend say.

"What? Ah yes. It was pleasure."

With one last smile, she was gone. John glanced at me.

"Well, she was interesting, wasn't she?"

With a parting thought to the girl, I replied.

"Hmm. As interesting as she could be, I suppose. Let's go John, the game is on!"

I just can't see Sherlock being too interested in me for very long. Not a very interesting person. However, I do believe John and I would get on quite well.

Review and let me know what you thought!


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